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The Rabbis Never Agreed Whether Noah Deserved to Survive

The Torah calls Noah righteous twice in the same breath, and the rabbis spend centuries arguing over what that double praise conceals.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Torah Mentions Righteousness Twice and the Rabbis Notice
  2. In His Generation: The Qualifier That Changes Everything
  3. Noah Found Favor: Merit or Grace
  4. What Kind of Person He Was Before
  5. What Noah Taught After the Flood
  6. The Covenant Renewed Every Morning

The Torah Mentions Righteousness Twice and the Rabbis Notice

In the space of three verses, the Torah calls Noah righteous twice. These are the offspring of Noah. Noah was a righteous man, blameless in his generation. Noah walked with God. Then, almost immediately: Noah was a righteous man, faultless. The repetition is not accidental, or at least the rabbis refused to treat it as accidental. They spent generations pulling it apart.

Why twice? The text had already established Noah's righteousness. What does the second mention add that the first did not cover? The question sounds grammatical on the surface but is actually asking something with real moral weight: was Noah genuinely righteous, or was the Torah working harder than usual to make a lesser claim convincing?

In His Generation: The Qualifier That Changes Everything

The phrase in his generation is where the argument concentrated. Bereshit Rabbah, the great Palestinian midrash on Genesis compiled in the fifth century, presents two opposing readings of that phrase and refuses to declare a winner between them.

One reading says: in his generation is a compliment. Noah lived in a generation that was entirely corrupt, and he was righteous anyway. That is more difficult than being righteous in an age that supports righteousness. Noah was swimming against a current that carried everyone else toward destruction. His righteousness deserves more credit, not less, because of the context it existed in.

The other reading says: in his generation is a qualification that functions as criticism. If Noah had lived in the generation of Abraham, he would have been nothing. Abraham was genuinely great. Noah was only remarkable by the low standard of his own corrupt era. He was the tallest tree in a forest of stumps.

The midrash records both readings without resolving them.

Noah Found Favor: Merit or Grace

Genesis 6:8 says Noah found favor in the eyes of God. The verse comes before the declaration of righteousness. Favor came first, and righteousness came after. The sequence matters to the rabbis, because the rabbis argue over which came first causally: did God favor Noah because of his righteousness, or was Noah righteous because God had already favored him?

Bereshit Rabbah presses this question in a direction that is uncomfortable for any simple meritocracy. If favor preceded the declaration of righteousness in the text, then the traditional reading, Noah was saved because he was good, may have the causation backward. God may have decided to save Noah for reasons independent of Noah's virtue, and Noah's righteousness may have been the result of divine favor rather than its cause.

Rabbi Huna and other sages debated whether the phrase found favor was a response to Noah's merit or an act of pure divine grace extended to someone who had done nothing yet to earn it. The tradition preserves both possibilities without forcing a conclusion.

What Kind of Person He Was Before

Bereshit Rabbah also records traditions about Noah before the flood that complicate the praise. He was five hundred years old and had no children. The text mentions this and then introduces his sons, Shem, Ham, and Yefet. Why so late? Why did Noah wait until he was five hundred years old?

One tradition says Noah knew prophecy had told him the flood was coming, and he deliberately delayed having children so they would not suffer in a world that was about to be destroyed. A second tradition says the delay was a flaw, not a virtue: Noah was reluctant to bring life into the world even though God had specifically designated him and his family as survivors. He had been told he would be saved, and still he hesitated to begin the family that was supposed to repopulate the earth.

Neither reading makes Noah simply heroic. He was either calculating in his compassion or reluctant in his faith.

What Noah Taught After the Flood

The Book of Jubilees, a Second Temple text that retells Genesis with expansions and additions, credits Noah with substantial teaching activity after the flood. In the years when his grandchildren were growing up, Noah gave them detailed instruction in medicine and in agriculture, in the proper boundaries of the earth, and in the seven laws that God had required of all humanity. He was not simply a man who had survived. He became a teacher who tried to ensure the next generation would know what the previous one had failed to keep.

Jubilees presents Noah without the ambiguity that the rabbinic midrash cultivates. For Jubilees, Noah was righteous in a straightforward way, a man who preserved humanity and then worked to teach it the foundations of a livable world. The debate about whether he deserved to survive, the question of whether he would have measured up in Abraham's generation, does not appear in the Jubilees retelling.

The Covenant Renewed Every Morning

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, the 8th-century Palestinian midrashic work, preserves a tradition about why the sages instituted the daily recitation of the oath to Noah. The covenant God made with Noah after the flood, never again to destroy the earth by water, is embedded in a verse from Deuteronomy about the promised land lasting as long as the heavens are above the earth. Every morning when that promise is recited, the covenant with Noah is renewed in the mouth of the person reciting it.

The rainbow that sealed the covenant does not appear in the sky every day. But the words that carry the promise do. Noah's survival, whatever its basis in merit or grace, became the foundation of a guarantee that the world would be allowed to keep existing. The rabbis who could not agree whether he deserved to survive never questioned that what he secured on his way out of the ark was worth renewing every morning.


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The texts this telling draws on, in full. Open a card to read inline, or expand it for a wider, quieter read.

Bereshit Rabbah 30:1Bereshit Rabbah

Take the story of Noah.

(Genesis 6:9) tells us: "These are the offspring of Noah; Noah was a righteous man, faultless in his generations; Noah walked with God.” And then, almost immediately, it repeats: "These are the offspring of Noah; Noah was a righteous man, faultless..." Why the echo?

The ancient rabbis, masters of Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) – that beautiful art of biblical interpretation – saw layers upon layers of meaning in what might seem like a simple reiteration. Bereshit Rabbah, one of the most important and earliest collections of these rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis, dives deep into this repetition. It doesn't just accept it at face value. It asks: What is the Torah trying to tell us?

Bereshit Rabbah connects the verses about Noah directly to verses in Proverbs, drawing parallels between the destruction of the wicked and the salvation of the righteous. It quotes (Proverbs 10:25): “When a storm passes through, the wicked are no more, but a righteous man is the foundation of the world.” Who is that righteous man? Noah. And who were those swept away by the storm? The generation of the Flood.

See how it works? The rabbis are using Proverbs to illuminate the story of Noah, showing us that it’s not just a historical event but a timeless lesson about righteousness and destruction.

It continues, drawing on (Proverbs 12:7): “The wicked are overturned and they are no more, but the house of the righteous will stand.” Again, this is linked directly to Noah. The "wicked overturned" are the generation lost in the flood, while "the house of the righteous" that stands is Noah and his family, preserved through the ark.

Then Bereshit Rabbah offers another perspective, quoting (Proverbs 14:11): “The house of the wicked will be destroyed, but the tent of the upright will flourish.” This further reinforces the idea that while the wicked generation of the Flood met its end, Noah, as an upright individual, saw his "tent" or household flourish and continue.

The repetition in Genesis, therefore, isn't just repetition. It’s an invitation. An invitation to see the story of Noah not as an isolated incident, but as an archetype. A representation of a universal truth – that righteousness, even in the face of overwhelming wickedness, offers a path to survival and renewal.

So, the next time you encounter repetition in the Bible, don't just gloss over it. Ask yourself: What is the deeper message being emphasized? What connections can I make to other parts of the text? You might be surprised at the hidden wisdom you uncover.

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Bereshit Rabbah 26:1Bereshit Rabbah

Take Noah, for instance. The familiar story is this: the ark, the flood, the animals two-by-two. But what about Noah before the flood? What kind of person was he?

Well, the book of Bereshit Rabbah, a collection of ancient rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dives deep into this very question. It all starts with the verse: "Noah was five hundred years old, and Noah begot Shem, Ham, and Yefet" (Genesis 5:32). Seems straightforward. But the Rabbis saw something more.

The Bereshit Rabbah cleverly connects this verse to (Psalm 1:1): "Happy is the man who has not walked in the counsel of the wicked." The connection? The Rabbis suggest that Noah is that happy man. But what does it mean to "not walk in the counsel of the wicked"?

Here, we get a fascinating debate between Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Nehemya. Rabbi Yehuda sees three distinct generations of wickedness that Noah resisted: the generation of Enosh, the generation of the Flood, and the generation of the Dispersion (when the Tower of Babel was built). He sees the three phrases of resistance to sin in the Psalms verse, "has not walked in the counsel of the wicked, has not stood in the path of sinners, and has not sat in the company of scoffers", as alluding to these three separate eras of decline. Noah, according to Rabbi Yehuda, was a righteous anchor in a sea of moral decay throughout his long life.

Rabbi Nehemya offers a slightly different take. He agrees that Noah resisted the wickedness of the Flood generation and the Dispersion generation, but he questions whether Noah was truly accountable during the time of Enosh. Why? Because Noah was only eighty-four years old when Enosh died. Considering the incredibly long lifespans of that era, people weren't considered adults, morally responsible for their actions, until they were closer to one hundred years old!

But according to Rabbi Yehuda's interpretation, Noah's righteousness didn't just involve avoiding evil. It also involved actively pursuing good. The verse continues in Psalms, "but whose desire is in the Torah of the Lord, and he meditates on His Torah day and night" (Psalms 1:2). The Rabbis connect this to the seven mitzvot, the seven commandments that Noah and his descendants were obligated to follow.

And how did Noah "meditate" on God's Torah? The Bereshit Rabbah gives us a beautiful example. Noah, observing that there were more pure animals than impure animals, reasoned that God must want him to offer sacrifices from the pure animals. So, immediately after leaving the ark, "he took from every pure animal…and offered up offerings" (Genesis 8:20). This shows Noah's proactive desire to understand and fulfill God's will.

Finally, the text links the rest of (Psalm 1:3) to Noah's three sons: "He will be like a tree planted by streams of water...which gives its fruit in season," refers to Shem; "whose leaf does not wither," refers to Ham; "and whatever he does, he will prosper," refers to Yefet. This ties the Psalm back to the original verse about Noah begetting his sons, painting a picture of a family rooted in righteousness, each son bearing fruit in his own way.

So, what does this all mean? It means that the story of Noah isn't just about surviving a flood. It's about resisting the pressures of a corrupt society, actively seeking to understand God's will, and planting seeds of righteousness for future generations. It's a reminder that even in the darkest of times, one person can make a difference. And perhaps, that's the most powerful lesson we can learn from Noah’s story.

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Bereshit Rabbah 29:1Bereshit Rabbah

That feeling, that precarious balance between merit and grace, is at the heart of a fascinating discussion about Noah in Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations on the Book of Genesis.

The verse in question, of course, is (Genesis 6:8): "But Noah found favor in the eyes of the Lord." Seems straightforward. Noah was righteous, therefore God spared him. But hold on. The rabbis, never ones to shy away from a good theological wrestling match, dig a little deeper.

Rabbi Ḥanina of Anatot, in this particular passage of Bereshit Rabbah 29, makes a startling claim. He suggests that Noah had a mere onkia of virtue – that’s like, one ounce. Just a tiny sliver of goodness to his name. So how did he survive the flood?

The text then quotes (Job 22:30): “He will rescue the unclean [i-naki], and he will escape by the pureness of Your hands.” Now, normally, that verse is interpreted as referring to someone who is innocent. But Rabbi Ḥanina flips it. He says the i-naki, the "unclean" one, is actually someone with only a minuscule amount of merit. In other words, God rescued Noah not because he earned it, but because of divine grace – "the pureness of Your hands." for a second. readers often assume that good things happen to good people, and bad things to bad people. But this passage challenges that assumption. It suggests that sometimes, just sometimes, we are saved not by our own righteousness, but by the sheer undeserved mercy of God.

And it gets even more provocative. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana takes it a step further, pointing to (Genesis 6:7-8): “For I regret that I made them, and Noah…” Instead of reading ve-Noaḥ as "but Noah," he suggests reading it as "and Noah." God regretted creating even Noah! According to this reading, even Noah, the one who remained, wasn't particularly worthy. His salvation was pure, unadulterated grace. It wasn’t that he was inherently deserving; it was that “he found favor in the eyes of the Lord.”

So, what are we to make of this? Is it saying that Noah was secretly a terrible person? Not necessarily. It's more about highlighting the overwhelming power and mercy of God. It's a reminder that even when we fall short, even when we feel like we only have an onkia of virtue to our name, there's still a chance for redemption. There's still the possibility of finding favor.

The Midrash Rabbah, another key source of rabbinic teachings, is full of these kinds of challenging interpretations, forcing us to confront complex theological questions. As Ginzberg retells it in Legends of the Jews, these stories aren't just about the past; they're about us, here and now.

Perhaps this is a comforting thought. Maybe, just maybe, we don't have to be perfect to be worthy of love, worthy of salvation, worthy of a second chance. Maybe all we need is a little bit of grace, a little bit of favor in the eyes of… well, someone, something, bigger than ourselves. What do you think?

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Book of Jubilees 7:26Book of Jubilees

Book of Jubilees turns to Watchers, Noah at the Dawn of Creation.

The Book of Jubilees, a fascinating text considered scripture by some and a valuable historical source by others, gives us a glimpse into that post-diluvian world. Jubilees 7 tells us that in the twenty-eighth jubilee (a period of 49 years, based on the Sabbatical cycle), Noah started teaching his grandchildren. He didn't just offer suggestions; he “enjoined upon his sons’ sons the ordinances and commandments, and all the judgments that he knew.”

Being in that audience. What would you want to know? How to build an ark? Probably not. Noah, having witnessed the utter destruction of the world, focused on something far more fundamental: righteousness.

He “exhorted his sons to observe righteousness, and to cover the shame of their flesh, and to bless their Creator, and honor father and mother, and love their neighbor, and guard their souls from fornication and uncleanness and all iniquity." Pretty straightforward. Core values for any society hoping to thrive.

But then comes the kicker. Jubilees doesn’t just list these commandments; it tells us why they are so critical. Why did the flood happen? According to this text, "owing to these three things came the flood upon the earth.” What three things?

First, "owing to the fornication wherein the Watchers against the law of their ordinances went a whoring after the daughters of men, and took themselves wives of all which they chose: and they made the beginning of uncleanness."

The Book of Jubilees is referencing the story of the Watchers, or Irin (עירין) in Aramaic. These were angelic beings who, according to some traditions (found more fully elaborated in texts like 1 Enoch), descended to Earth and intermingled with humans, producing offspring of giants, the Nephilim. Their transgression wasn't just about breaking a celestial rule; it "made the beginning of uncleanness" and corrupted the natural order.

So, there you have it. The world was destroyed not just because of random wickedness, but because of a specific breakdown in boundaries, a blurring of the lines between the sacred and the profane, and the utter disregard for divinely ordained limitations. Noah, standing on the other side of that cataclysm, knew that the future of humanity depended on learning from that devastating lesson. What lessons are we still learning from the flood?

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 24:1Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Why do our sages, according to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, institute that we should mention the oath to Noah every single day? It all goes back to that promise, that covenant, found in (Deuteronomy 11:21): "That your days may be multiplied, and the days of your children, upon the land which the Lord sware unto your fathers to give them, as the days of the heavens above the earth." It's a promise of longevity, of continuity, tied directly to the land. And remembering it daily keeps us connected to that promise, to that hope.

The story doesn't end there. Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating, almost cinematic retelling of biblical narratives, dives deep into the aftermath of the flood, focusing on Noah's role in distributing the world among his sons and grandsons. It’s a tale of blessings, inheritances, and some, shall we say, interesting divvying up of land and complexions.

So, Noah gathers his descendants. And he blesses them, assigning each branch their specific territories. First, there's Shem and his sons. They’re blessed with a complexion described as "dark but comely," and they inherit the habitable earth. The heartland, the fertile crescent, the places where civilization can truly flourish.

Then comes Ham and his sons. They’re described as "dark like the raven," and their inheritance is the coast of the sea. The sea is a source of sustenance, a path for trade, but also a place of storms and uncertainty. It's a powerful image.

Finally, there’s Japheth and his sons, blessed with being "entirely white." They inherit the desert and its fields. The desert, a place of harsh beauty, of spiritual testing, of vast emptiness.

Now, let’s be clear. These descriptions of skin tone are often interpreted through the lens of later historical and social contexts, and it's important to approach them with sensitivity and awareness. But within the narrative itself, it’s about more than just physical appearance. It's about assigning roles, destinies, and responsibilities to different groups of people.

What's striking is the sheer scope of Noah’s actions. He’s not just dividing up land; he’s shaping the future. He’s setting the stage for the rise of nations, the development of cultures, and the unfolding of human history. It is a powerful narrative that continues to resonate through the ages.

This division of the world, this passing down of blessings and burdens, raises some profound questions, doesn't it? What does it mean to inherit a particular destiny? How do the choices of our ancestors shape our own lives? And what responsibility do we have to honor the promises made long ago?

Perhaps by remembering the oath to Noah every day, we're not just acknowledging a historical event. We're also reminding ourselves of the ongoing covenant between humanity and the divine, a covenant that calls us to build a more just and equitable world for all. And maybe, just maybe, that's the secret instruction manual we've been searching for all along.

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Midrash Tanchuma Buber, Noach 6:1Midrash Tanchuma Buber, Noach

(Genesis 6:9:) "These are the generations [of Noah; Noah was a righteous man, perfect in his generations]." What is the meaning of "in his generations"? There are those who expound it to praise, and there are those who expound it to disgrace. "A righteous man", in his generations, but not in other generations.

A parable; to what is the matter comparable? If a person places a silver sela among [a hundred] copper selas, that silver one appears beautiful. So too did Noah appear righteous in the generation of the Flood.

How do some expound it to praise? It is comparable to a young woman who dwelt in a market of harlots and yet remained virtuous (kasher); had she been in a market of the virtuous (kesherot), how much more so. A parable to a jar of balsam that was placed in a grave, and its fragrance was good; had it been in a house, how much more so.

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Bereshit Rabbah 30:9Bereshit Rabbah

The Torah tells us he was "righteous in his generation" (Genesis 6:9). But what does that really mean?

Bereshit Rabbah, a classic collection of rabbinic interpretations of Genesis, dives deep into this seemingly simple phrase. In section 30, we find a fascinating disagreement between two rabbis, Rabbi Yehuda and Rabbi Neḥemya, about how to understand Noah's righteousness. It all hinges on those three little words: "in his generations" (b’dorotav).

Rabbi Yehuda takes a rather… skeptical view. He argues that Noah was only considered righteous because of the low moral standards of his time. Imagine, he says, a marketplace filled with people who are completely blind. In that context, someone blind in only one eye would be hailed as "the one of abundant light!" It's all relative. To illustrate his point, Rabbi Yehuda shares a parable about a man with a wine cellar. He keeps finding that his wine has gone bad. When someone suggests he shouldn’t drink it, he replies, “Is there any better than it?” In other words, Noah might have been the best of a bad bunch. Had he lived in the time of Moses or Samuel, giants of righteousness, he wouldn't have stood out at all. Harsh, huh?

Rabbi Neḥemya sees things differently. He believes that Noah's righteousness was even more impressive precisely because of the wickedness surrounding him. If he could maintain his integrity in such a corrupt environment, imagine how much brighter he would have shone among truly righteous people!

Rabbi Neḥemya uses a different set of analogies to make his case. He tells of a bowl of fragrant balsam oil, tightly sealed and placed in a graveyard. Even in that place of death and decay, its sweet scent manages to waft through the air. Imagine how powerfully it would perfume a clean, open space! Or picture a virgin in a marketplace full of immoral women who somehow maintains her good reputation. Wouldn’t she shine even brighter in a marketplace of upright women?

According to Rabbi Neḥemya, Noah's righteousness wasn't diminished by his surroundings; it was enhanced. If he was righteous then, he would have been all the more so in the time of Moses or Samuel.

So, who's. Maybe both of them are! These rabbis aren’t just giving us a history lesson; they're inviting us to consider how we evaluate character. Does context excuse mediocrity, or does it amplify true virtue? Is it harder to be good in a bad world, or an easy one?

This passage from Bereshit Rabbah reminds us that righteousness isn't a fixed point. It’s a dynamic process, constantly shaped by the world around us and the choices we make. And perhaps, just perhaps, it’s not about being perfect, but about striving to be a light, however small, in whatever darkness we find ourselves.

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